Firkin Whisky: The Slightly Unhinged Lovechild of Japanese Precision and Scottish Swagger.
- T
- Jul 2
- 7 min read
If whisky had a Tinder bio, Firkin would swipe left on pomp, right on mischief, and show up to the first date in vintage tweed, smelling faintly of peat and poetry. Born in Japan, raised in Scotland, and adored from Tokyo to Timbuktu, The Firkin Whisky Co. is not here to play by the rules - it's here to rewrite the whole damn tasting menu.
This isn’t whisky that murmurs politely from behind crystal. This is whisky that kicks open the door with a smoky wink, flirts with your palate, and tells a slightly inappropriate joke at dinner (which, annoyingly, everyone remembers fondly).
Mike Collings: The Grand Firkin Wizard of Scotch
Meet Mike Collings, the whisky world’s silver fox and benevolent chaos agent. He’s the man behind Johnnie Walker Blue, Green, Classic Malts, Rare Malts... basically the Beyoncé of blending. But instead of resting on a barrel full of legacy, he did something rather unorthodox - he went rogue. In his words? “Bugger it, let’s make something Firkin amazing.”
Mike didn’t just create a whisky. He created an attitude. A swagger in a glass. A cask-strength middle finger to mediocrity.
His method? Blend American first-fill bourbon barrels with freshly charred French Limousin oak (because why settle for one wood when you can have two that argue in your mouth). Then comes the real seduction - he soaks the casks in “soulmate” wines like Tawny Port and Marsala, crafting drams that are both seductive and slightly scandalous.
Each cask? Sampled obsessively every six months until it sings arias of complexity and whispers dirty jokes to your olfactory bulb.
Firkin 49: The Highland Fling with Benefits
Straight outta Tullibardine, Firkin 49 is the whisky equivalent of a charming rogue at a ceilidh who knows all the steps and your mother’s maiden name. Aged in bourbon, then sherried-up with a 50/50 split of Amontillado and Oloroso, it’s a full-bodied flirtation.
Imagine a soirée where the guests are as well-dressed as they are dangerously flirtatious. The opening act? Dried figs in a tuxedo - dark, luscious, and rich in natural sugars, but refined, as if they'd just emerged from an old mahogany humidor. They don’t shout; they smoulder. Their sweetness isn't syrupy but sultry - genteel fruit with a knowing smile and impeccable tailoring.
Then, suddenly, toasted almonds doing the tango glide onto your palate - nutty, warm, with the crackle of oak-fired drama. They pirouette across your tongue, dusted in a faint trace of nutmeg and butter, partnering beautifully with the fig's grounded elegance. It’s a dance that feels spontaneous yet rehearsed, wild but under control. Almonds like these don’t just dance - they dip you.
And just when you think you’ve settled into the rhythm, along comes a splash of crème brûlée - silky custard, vanilla bean, and that ever-so-gentle crackle of burnt sugar crust. It softens the heat, flatters the spice, and whispers sweet nothings in French.
But wait - a sultry wink of cinnamon arrives at the end like the final flourish on a flirtatious handwritten note, folded once and slid across the table. It doesn't overpower; it seduces. Warm and lingering, with just enough heat to leave a memory.
This is not a dram you sip and forget. No, this is the one you sneak back to bed with - long after you’ve said goodnight, brushed your teeth, and sworn that one was enough. It’s a whisky that makes promises and keeps secrets. It doesn’t ask for commitment, just your full attention. And darling, it knows exactly how to keep it.
Firkin Islay: The Bad Boy with a Marsala Heart
Caol Ila never looked so dashing. This Islay dram still brings the smoke, but it’s less angry bonfire and more seductive smoulder. Finished in Marsala wine casks, it’s got coastal swagger with Sicilian charm - a Mediterranean brogue, if you will.
Close your eyes. Now imagine standing on a craggy bluff off Islay’s northeastern tip - the sea wind in your hair, a dram in your hand, and the slow curl of smoke rising from something deliciously illicit. That’s the kind of drama Firkin Islay delivers, and darling, it’s only just begun.
It opens with a breath of sea spray caught in vanilla incense - briny and bright, but softened by a creamy sweetness, like beach fire prayers whispered through silk. It doesn’t slap; it seduces. The salt tickles, the vanilla coaxes, and together they waft in like a memory of someone you shouldn’t have kissed… but did.
Then comes the toasted marshmallow moment - not the ones from camping trips, but the gourmet kind, gently charred over smouldering peat, served on vintage silver with a side of mischief. The smoke isn't aggressive - it's flirtatious. Think velvet jacket, open collar, smelling faintly of fire and promise.
Just when you’re settling in, there's a lick of dark chocolate - bitter but alluring, like midnight secrets told over espresso and candlelight. That note? It's wearing eyeliner and quoting Leonard Cohen. It's the kind of complexity that raises one brow and pours another glass.
But wait - a little salty attitude enters, bringing maritime swagger and a faint trace of seaweed-wrapped naughtiness. The peppery snap follows, crisp and electric, like someone just said your name across the bar and it made you turn.
And the finish? Oh, the finish. It doesn’t fade - it lingers like a smouldering glance from across a smoky whisky bar, the kind that holds eye contact just a second too long and makes you forget what you were saying.
Firkin Islay doesn’t rush. It unravels. A dram for those who like their whiskies complex, their fireside chats long, and their flirtations with a bit of smoke.
Firkin Rare Aultmore 2010 Tawny Port: The Wallflower Turned Whiskey Diva
Aultmore, usually the quiet one hiding in the blend, gets a glow-up with Firkin’s Tawny Port magic. It’s like watching the bookish one from the back row step into the spotlight with a smoky eye and a killer heel.
Step into the speakeasy of your senses, where Firkin Rare Aultmore 2010 walks onto the stage like it owns the room - dressed in oxblood velvet, radiating charisma, and backed by the sultry rhythm of Tawny Port. This isn’t your average dram. This is a single malt with a spotlight and a late set.
It opens with red berries bursting out of a velvet-lined humidor - lush, ripe, and just the right side of indecent. Think wild raspberries that have spent time in polite company but still know how to flirt. The fruit is plush, perfumed, and framed by soft tobacco leaf and antique wood, like a stolen kiss in a private library.
Then the rhythm section kicks in. Cinnamon bark and toasted hazelnuts enter like percussion - warm, dry, and textural. They don’t overpower, they seduce, coaxing the palate with a spicy swing. And just when you think you've got the groove, in slides a line of silky malt - smooth, rounded, and resonant, like a jazz solo played on a stand-up bass with velvet gloves.
There’s elegance here, yes - but it’s the kind of elegance that winks as it sips. It’s Ava Gardner with a hip flask. It’s Fred Astaire’s footwork laced with a shot of something scandalous.
And the finish? Darling, it’s smooth as a silk scarf being twirled off with flair - slow, sensuous, and unapologetically self-assured. No burn, no rush. Just a lingering warmth and a whisper of port-soaked oak and red fruit confit that says, “Don’t be shy. Pour another.”
This is not a whisky that fades quietly into the night. It deserves a standing ovation, an encore, and possibly a key to your heart. Or at the very least, a dedicated shelf in your collection.
Firkin Ten: The Madeira-Soaked Maverick from Benrinnes
This one's your end-of-day hero. Firkin Ten takes Benrinnes' muscular spirit and softens it with Madeira wine, creating a whisky that punches, pirouettes, and then pours you a second glass before you’ve even asked.
Imagine walking into an old-world parlour at midnight, the scent of spice in the air, jazz crackling on vinyl, and the lighting set low enough for secrets to feel safe. That’s where Firkin Ten pours itself a dram. It’s the whisky equivalent of a late-night confession shared over candlelight - half dangerous, half delicious, all unforgettable.
It opens with a decadent flourish - ginger cake soaked in spiced rum. Not the polite kind, mind you - this is the dense, sticky, slightly naughty version that sticks to your memory and your fingers. Warming, bold, and laced with clove and nutmeg, it’s the kind of opening that doesn’t whisper “sip me” - it purrs it.
Then comes the heart of the dram: burnt orange peel - bright but smoky - swirling its citrus zing like a flamenco dancer’s fan, right up against the rich, velvet embrace of mocha mousse. It’s an audacious pairing, sure - but somehow, it works. The chocolate brings the indulgence, the orange brings the attitude, and together they create the kind of tension you only get when opposites flirt hard.
And just when you think it might all go a little too sweet, Benrinnes’ signature malt heft muscles in - grounding, chewy, and complex. There's swagger in that spirit. It doesn’t just support the flavours; it throws them over its shoulder and walks them home through the rain.
But the true magic lies in the afterglow - that inexplicable feeling you get when someone finally understands your dark humour. The finish is long, layered, and emotionally fluent. A touch of madeira-soaked oak lingers, hinting at walnuts, raisins, and the kind of warmth that curls around you like a well-placed inside joke.
Firkin Ten doesn’t shout to be noticed. It leans in close and says something clever that only you catch. It’s complex but unpretentious, indulgent but not gaudy. A whisky for thinkers, flirtatious philosophers, and those who know that the best moments in life are often unscripted.
Why Firkin? Because You Deserve More Than Beige Whisky
Let’s be honest - whisky can at times be a bit of a bore. All solemn nods and leather armchairs. Firkin kicks that door off its hinges, lights a cigar with a tasting note, and offers you something better: whisky that lives.
This is for the ones who drink their drams with stories, not spreadsheets. For those who know flavour should come with feeling, and maybe just a little flirtation.
So go on. Pour yourself a Firkin. Drink with intention. Laugh a little louder. And never, ever settle for boring whisky again.
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Words by AW.
Photos courtesy of Firkin Whisky Co.
